The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-08-27
The Ligltlilg CoOkee.

Soon after came to Dakota Terri tory, made the acquaintance of the odd adventurer who went by the name of the "Lightning Cookee."
 We moved to Dakota in 1879. Un- til then our family had always lived on the old fifty-acre farm in New Hampshire. That is, father and I lived there, for that is all there has been of our family since can remem- Der, and l was then only fourteen years of age.
 But that year the crops were poor, and father said he was beginning to feel discouraged. One beautiful even- ing in October-I shall never forget that evening-he came home from town and told me he had something ito talk over.
 "Pve seen a man this afternoon, Kitty" he said, as we sat down to supper, "who has been out to Dakota and he says there are millions of acres of good land there that any one can have for the asking. He says the soil is fairly black, and that the crops they raise out there are astonishing. He went out on business, but he likes the country so well that he is going there next spring with his family to take up farm. He wants me to go too; and don't know but l would, Kitty, if didn't think it would be such rough life for you."
 Then father drew from his pocket some of those fascinating railroad cir culars, full of glowing descriptions of life and prospects in the Far West, and of bewildering statistics, showing the enormous productiveness of the soil and the wonderful growth of the newer regions of the country. We had read them before, but never be- fore did they make so much inn pression on us as they did now.
 Well, father and both caught the western fever. He went out that winter and took up his land, under the homestead law, and in March he came back for me.
 Imagine us settled in little board house ill Walston, Dakota, just across the Red River of the North from Minnesota. When we built it there was not another house in sight, but now we can count nearly twenty houses.
 Father had realized from his prop erty in New Hampshire two thousand seven hundred dollars, and as he had secured his one hundred and sixty acres in Walston for practically noth ing, he had good round sum left, after building the small house and barn and buying mules and machin- cry.
 The first year, with some hired help, he "broke" and "backset" all the land, that is, turned over the rough sod, and then, after some weeks, when it was thoroughly routed, turned it over again.
 The second year he hired more men, and, having seeded the whole quarter section, reaped nearly four thousand bushels of wheat. Tha' year he took up, under the timber culture law, another quarter section adjoining the first and broke that, so that the third year he had quite large force of men employed about the farm.
 That was the year 1882. We had put up, one by one, larger and better buildings, and our little dining room was now in the mems building, on the opposite side of the kitchen from where they had their meals.
 One morning while we were at breakfast overheard strange voice and a loud talking in the kitchen. The cook had been complaining for several days because he had too much work, and father had promised to look about for a "cookee"- with the accent on the second sylla- ble-as the cooks assistant is always called on the farms here.
 While I was wondering as to whom the caller might be, the door flew open
 ''Mr. Norris" said the cook, there's a man that wants to be cookee. He's mighty smart, if you can take his word for it."
 1Where is he?" asked father.
 aHere I am, right here every time" aid ready voice from the kitchen, and . tall, hnk creature, in . rcd shirt, with . bufalo coat over one arm, came